Stranger
It’s been years;
they are gone—
or perhaps they were never really there.
Just an illusion I crafted,
woven from the threads of longing,
veiled by the mist of my heart.
Now that the fog has lifted,
the person I loved,
my hero,
my ideal,
has unraveled, piece by piece.
And standing before me,
in the harsh light of truth,
is a stranger—
familiar in face,
but foreign to my soul.
Do share your thoughts:)
Copyright © Martha Brown | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment